A/N: I think I said this to... like... everyone yesterday, but you guys are all so NICE in this fandom! XD I may just have to stick around and see what happens!

Oops, lied again. Only the two, dears. Hahaha. Unless... gaaaah, I can't decide!! T.T


It had been so tempting.

The urge to tear off his wings, to leave him lying there for the Autobots or the humans to find… or perhaps to bring him as an example, to warn any others who felt that they could rule the Decepticons.

But Megatron's better judgment had prevailed. He can't afford to lose one of his warriors, not when so few of them have followed him here. And Starscream does have his uses. He is still a competent second-in-command, and he had led the others here.

Probably thinking to take the Allspark for himself and kill me, Megatron thinks, not without amusement.

It could be worse—better to have an Air Commander who schemes against him than to be followed by mindless soldiers. As long as Starscream's plans fail, which they invariably do, Megatron will overlook them. In fact, he admires Starscream's tenacity, which the smaller mech extends to anything he does. If there is one thing Megatron will say for his conniving second, it is that he finishes what he begins.

In all cases but one, of course, Megatron thinks, smirking as he idly reaches out to run one metallic finger along the edge of one of Starscream's wings. He chuckles at the shudder it earns. Starscream's glare is tempered with caution, now, and it makes Megatron laugh outright. He has kept the other at his side, knowing that their violent encounter alone may not be enough to change Starscream's treacherous ways. No, he may need further convincing, and Megatron is enjoying himself. It didn't take long to discover that he could now make the other cringe at his slightest touch, particularly it it's anywhere near his wings or his Spark chamber, and that alone provides endless entertainment.

Starscream does make an excellent pet.

"Is something… the matter?" he purrs. He loves the expressions battling for dominance on Starscream's face, as his second tries to fight back his obvious anger and disgust.

"Nothing."

Megatron chuckles softly, running one finger along a seam in the smaller mech's chest armor. His second tenses, wary of the sharp claw, perhaps, or of where it seems to be headed.

"Stop it—"

Megatron doesn't even need to reply. One look is all it takes for Starscream's face to go artificially blank. It's interesting to watch as the other seethes inwardly. He can tell that Starscream is barely holding back angry words. But the damage has been done. He needs no more excuse.

Megatron's fingers are perfectly suited for tearing apart armor, ripping his foes to pieces with his hands alone, but he does not lack finesse. One can never be too careful when dealing with a Spark, even one as remarkably strong as Starscream's. He can feel its energy as he carefully pries apart his second's chest armor, revealing his Spark chamber. Starscream can do nothing but stand still, stand and take it with clenched fists and a determinedly emotionless face. Megatron is almost disappointed; if only the other mech was fighting, it would give him an excuse to knock him around some more. But Starscream was smart enough to realize that.

His Spark isn't a solid thing in Megatron's fingers, but the Decepticons's leader has handled enough of these to know how. It feels like heat; all of them do. But Starscream's also feels like cold, like wind, like air rushing into his face and beneath his wings, like soaring miles above a planet's surface at speeds no other vehicle could match, like ambush and explosions, like the thrill of discovery and the thrill of deception and the thrill of destruction.

How it must feel to Starscream, Megatron can only imagine. No one has ever grabbed his Spark like this. The feeling must be comparable to a direct joining of Sparks, which Megatron has experienced from time to time.

A brief touch of his fingers to his own chest causes his armor to peel back, exposing a Spark brighter even than Starscream's. Despite all of Starscream's best efforts, Megatron hears a strangled noise escape his second. This only puts a chilly smirk on Megatron's face before, with an effortless surge, he places his Spark into contact with Starscream's.

A cry of some indecipherable sort is his reward, and in just a moment, with ease born from practice, Megatron is Starscream. All that he felt when he touched the other mech's Spark is magnified a hundredfold, for now it is his memory, and for this brief time he knows Starscream. Megatron's being must be torture to force onto Starscream, who has little, if any, experience with this. He feels his second's hands grasp his powerful arms as though to push him away, but they are as ineffectual as Starscream's cries. Megatron immerses himself, enjoying the familiar sensations. For several confused minutes, it's impossible to tell who is who. Even Megatron can't tell whether it's his pleasure he feels or Starscream's.

By the time Megatron is satisfied, Starscream's optics are blazing like suns and his armor is overheated. Megatron's claws have left deep scores where he didn't realize he had been digging them in. He lets go, and this time there is no convenient wall for support. Starscream's legs give way and he collapses with a clatter of metal. His glare is delicious, but he doesn't say anything. Megatron smirks in return, patting him on the shoulder.

A most excellent pet.


A/N: Evidently Megatron doesn't need much of an excuse...

...I mean, who can blame him?!

...shutting up now. XD